


Burning

by lferion



Series: Iron and Light [4]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Thorin Lives, Dreams, Fire, Gen, HobbitAdvent, Spoilers, Triple Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 20:11:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lferion/pseuds/lferion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin dreams of fire</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Hobbit Advent day 15, prompt: Roaring Fires

* * *

Thorin dreams of fire. There is no time where his spirit dwells, no form to hold that is not of will or imagination, no physical sensation. And yet, he dreams. Of dragonfire and forest fire raging over mountain sides, trees like torches; of troll-fire - not large, yet large enough for slow incineration, and of meagre campfires, only enough to hold the killing cold an arms length from the stones. Of smithy fire and hearth fire, remote and unreachable, simple making or ordinary comfort beyond his grasp, while pines blaze and wargs howl, wreathed in smoke and sparks as pale eyes mock him with reflected flame. He dreams of bonfires and bone-fires, the choking billows of bitter ash of the pyres of Azanulbizar, the smouldering corpses of his kin, his King. He dreams of the fire in his mind, his hands, his heart, that was the fever-scorch of cursèd gold, and even spelled in sleep he flinches from that consuming heat. The great forges of Erebor ignite and roar in dreaming memory, and over, under, throughout all is the blaze of dragonfire, burning, burning, burning.

It is only when the fire's howl and roar transmutes to the clang and heat and fountain sparks of forge-welding, thence to the sound of bellows, the even ring of a hammer shaping steel, drawing out, bending to the Maker's will, and then to the quiet mutter of annealing coals, a resting forge, that Thorin sees beyond the red-gold, blue-white fire-shimmer to perceive the figure of the Smith, Mahal the Maker, watching him, Thorin, laid upon the anvil block.

"Will you be mended, Durin's Son? Re-forged, re-tempered, re-annealed? Or would you be now released, to wait in stone until the world shall be re-made?"

A choice, that it need not end in fire.

"I would live."


End file.
